


Pancakes for Dinner

by rosaeles



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes is a sap, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, also the reader has healing powers, bucky is so soft for the reader omg, heck I need a hug after writing this, no beta reader we die like men, sam wilson is a good wing man, there is fluff! there is angst!, this was supposed to be based off a song but I strayed so much oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27214819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosaeles/pseuds/rosaeles
Summary: He is bared teeth and metal and a past he can't escape; red, black and rust. The missions suit him and he suits the missions. They’re what he’s been made for.You are gentle laughter and a smile that makes Bucky think that sunlight is all you’ve ever known. Phosphorescence personified - you glow where he is dark.He can't shake the feeling of wrongness, they shouldn’t have brought you here.orA mission goes wrong and the reader has to shoot someone! Angst, fluff and pining ensue!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 88





	Pancakes for Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> [ I wanna eat pancakes for dinner  
> I wanna get stuck in your head  
> I wanna watch a T.V. show together  
> And when we're under the weather  
> we can watch it in bed ]
> 
> word count: 5.7k  
> warnings: minor descriptions of wounds , mentions of blood
> 
> //
> 
> hey! here's something i've been working on! i just really wanted to write some soft, protective bucky so here it is i guess :)
> 
> i got inspo from a song called "Pancakes for Dinner" by Lizzy Mcalpine hence the title and i 100% recommend it because it's the cutest, softest song i've ever heard okay im going to CRY
> 
> anyway i hope u like it! recently i've been comparing myself *a lot* to other writers so i'm kinda nervous about posting this here but yeah!
> 
> tell me what u think! leave a comment <3

It’s getting dark when Buck finally steps onto the jet. 

He watches as Steve slumps down, shield rolling off his arm. 

It clatters to the floor as he leans back. America’s golden patriot folds into himself. Bruised knuckles and measured breaths, his large frame fits awkwardly in the seat. 

Bucky _despises_ what time has done to Steve. 

It took a gangly kid from Brooklyn and turned him into a soldier.

Newspapers and badly-fitted jackets became hardened muscle and exhaustion and blue and red suits.

Steve, who has always worn his heart on his sleeve, now also has sixty six frozen years sitting alongside it. A patchwork of loss and ice and a distinct sadness only Bucky, Sam and Nat seem to be able to pick up on

Some would argue that time has treated Bucky worse.

It probably has. 

Grabbed him viciously by the throat and slammed him six feet underground before pulling him back out for the world to see. Ripped him to shreds before dumping him ungraciously at Steve’s door. 

Your body brushes past Bucky’s, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

He watches you head to the pilot's seat, curling up and pulling your limbs together tightly - as tight as they'll go. 

Bucky makes his way to you, dropping heavy gear and weapons onto the floor of the jet.

"We're goin' home now, sweetheart.”

You don’t reply but Bucky doesn’t miss the way your shoulders shake. Or the way your bloodied fingers dig into your legs far harder than they should. 

Every inch of him is on fire. His lungs are burning in a way that they haven’t since HYDRA. Seeing you like this; near-catatonic, locked somewhere he can't reach, sets Bucky alight.

He burns and burns and burns, flames encompassing his entire being until he knows only fear. Fear for you.

You’re a healer -gifted with the ability to heal and remove pain with your touch.

Violence and death aren’t things he would _ever_ wish on someone like you. 

It seems he can’t protect the people he loves no matter how hard he tries.

Slowly, he picks up a blanket from the pile stacked up on one of the seats, bringing it to rest over your shoulders. He doesn’t let his hands linger. 

A captain, a soldier and a medic.

The jet takes you all home.

//

**TWO HOURS EARLIER**

_“You ready, Sarge?” Your voice is sugar and honey and sunlight._

_“Always am, Doc.” Bucky smiles easily._

_Everything with you is easy._

_Loving you is easy._

_Easy enough that you’re the only person apart from Steve that Bucky is sure he would take a bullet for._

_Not easy enough for him to tell you this._

_Sam says that it’s okay if Bucky isn’t good with his words. He says that you love him regardless._

_Bucky has his doubts._

_So when you fall asleep on his shoulder by accident, or when you patch him up after a hard mission, Bucky doesn’t say a thing._

_He smiles at you and holds your hand. Presses his lips to your cheek._

_He doesn’t want to ruin anything. Won't risk getting something good only for the universe to take it away from him._

_Being friends with you alone is much more than Bucky deserves._

  
  


_“I hate that we had to bring you here,” he murmurs, pulling you in for a hug._

_Your skill set is invaluable to the Avengers, but this is the first time you’ve been on a mission, usually you stay at the Compound, ready to heal any injuries when teams return._

_Something in Bucky’s gut twists painfully like a fist or the hilt of a knife. You should be safe in the med bay, chatting with Bruce and Shuri about a new advance in the world of science._

_Not on the Quinjet heading to an abandoned HYDRA base._

_You’ve told him plenty of times that it’s fine. That this is where you should be in case your ability is needed._

_Bucky doesn’t have the heart to tell you that you’ve never looked so out of place._

_He is bared teeth and metal and a past he can't escape; red, black and rust. The missions suit him and he suits the missions. They’re what he’s been made for._

_You are gentle laughter and a smile that makes Bucky think that summer is all you’ve ever known. Phosphorescence personified - you glow where he is dark._

_He can't shake the feeling of wrongness, they shouldn’t have brought you here._

_It’s like you can read his mind._

_“I’ll be safe and sound here on the jet, trying to hack into the surveillance or something.” You give him a cheeky grin. Playful and bold as you crack your knuckles._

_“You boys can go off and do your fighting, just bring me back the compounds okay?”_

_Compounds. Right, because that's why they're going to get in the first place. Chemical compounds that HYDRA has been developing. Cocktails of God knows what, engineered to make more super soldiers. More killers._

_The thought alone makes Bucky sick._

_They're compounds that Nick Fury has decided you need to analyse before they go into SHIELD custody._

_Bucky swallows hard, and smiles again, ignoring the voice in his head that screams at him to set new coordinates into the jet and get you as far away from here as possible._

_“Everything is going to be fine, Sarge.”_

_Bucky just presses his lips to your forehead._

_You smile tenderly, leaning in before squeezing his hand gently,_

_“Stop stalling, Steve is waiting.”_

_As if on queue, Steve’s head appears at the jet entrance._

_“Are you two done?”_

_Bucky pulls away from you slowly, touch lingering for a fraction longer than it should, before he heads off to meet Steve._

_“Stay safe,” you call out warmly, “and come back to me in one piece.”_

_Steve offers you a mock salute, “Yes ma'am.”_

_The jet entrance starts to close behind them and you wave at Bucky one last time._

_The entrance shuts._

_//_

_It was supposed to be a simple mission._

_In. Get the compounds. Out._

_Now Steve is somewhere on the other side of the base. Occasionally, your voice crackles through the comms asking if everyone’s okay._

_Steve says he’s fine._

_Bucky says that he is too._

_He’s not._

_He is freezing and exhausted and would rather be anywhere but here. He'd rather be with you in your room, talking about everything and nothing - painting a world that is cobalt and gold instead of trudging through one that is grey and bleak._

_He'd rather be sitting in one of the booths at your favourite diner, stealing fries from your plate as you chatter about your day._

_You don’t need to know that._

_At some point Steve calls out to you both, confirming that he's found what you're looking for._

_Bucky sighs with relief but there's no reply from your end._

_"Doc?" He calls out, mind instantly racing with all the worst possibilities,_ " _DOC?"_

_Still nothing._

_Bucky panics,"Steve? We need to go back to the jet,"_

_Steve's reply is cut off._

_Two gunshots in quick succession. The sound of something heavy hitting the ground._

_Steve is screaming something through the comms._

_It all drowns out._

_Bucky turns around and all he can focus on is you. Standing a few steps away, the gun in your hands is aimed at a body on the floor._

_He didn't hear anyone following him._

_You’re hurt._

_You were supposed to stay on the jet._

_Bucky feels the realizations collapse onto him in quick succession as he watches you grunt softly and raise a hand to your cheek._

_Your skin begins to heal itself, much to Bucky’s relief, but the blood that escaped the wound remains painted on your cheek; dripping down your chin in rivulets._

_“Y/N,” Bucky calls out to you as softly as he can because your eyes are wild and unfocused, making you look more like a cornered animal than a human, and the last thing he wants to do is scare you._

_“It’s okay. It’s over. You can put the gun down.” He tries to grab your attention._

_His words don’t register._

_You make your way towards the agent. Knees giving out underneath you after a few paces, forcing you to crawl._

_The rough concrete scrapes against your knuckles drawing blood. Bucky cringes at the sound of your skin pulling against gravel._

_You don’t notice._

_“I can still save him- I.. I didn’t- didn’t mean to-“_

_You’re mumbling as you turn the body over, dropping the gun onto the ground so your hands can work._

_“He’s gonna be okay- Oh god, I’m sorry.. I- I’m so sorry-”_

_Panic’s suffocating tendrils grab your throat and don’t let go._

_Bucky knows you’re not thinking rationally. You shot the agent in the back of the head, he was gone before he hit the ground. Your powers are strong, but they can't defy death._

_“He’s gone, Sweetheart. There’s nothing you can do for him now. We gotta go.”_

_You don’t seem to consider it. Instead, your palms come down on the bullet wound, your eyes focus in on the blood, it’s something Bucky has seen you do hundreds of times._

_You’re concentrating your power into one place._

_“I can still save him.”_

_Your hands begin to shake as the energy flows out of you hard and fast._

_But you’re fighting a losing battle._

_At some point, the wound on your cheek opens up again as you pull all the healing out of your body and focus it onto the agent. New blood comes soaring through, and you barely notice._

_Bucky kneels behind you, pulling your blood slick hands away gently, wincing at how cold they feel._

_You try to bat him off but his fingers stay around your wrists. Not tightly enough to cause pain. He only wants to bring you back._

_“LET ME HELP HIM- Bucky I.. I can still help him. Please...”_

_Bucky swears can hear the fight disappear from your voice._

_“Doc, he’s gone. We have to leave him.”_

_You turn to face him, eyes blank. Like your mind isn’t letting you comprehend what’s happened in order to protect you._

_“We’re okay, Honey. It’s alright.”_

_He watches it hit you._

_Pure, unadulterated horror grabs hold of your features in one jarring motion, digging its nails in, knocking anything else off._

_Your eyes widen, a small, confused sound dropping from your lips._

_Bucky realises you’re going to be sick before you do._

_He crouches next to you down as soon as you begin to heave. Rubbing your back soothingly as tremors wrack through you and tears race_ _down your face. Shuffling around so your view of the body is blocked._

 _“He was going to-“ You try to speak between gasps. “Bucky he was going to_ kill _you.”_

_Bucky doesn’t know what to do to make you feel better._

_You were supposed to be safe._

_Instead you’re here. In a freezing HYDRA base with a dead body and an emotionally stunted super soldier for company._

_"It’s okay.”_

_But it's not. You are a good person, a protector._

_Not a soldier._

_Not a killer._

//

_"Stay with me okay? We're nearly out" Bucky turns back to check on you for the nth time._

_"C'mon Y/N were almost there-" he reaches out for your hand._

_You’re a few steps behind him, taking deep gulps as your body folds over and you try to force air into your lungs. Shock is slowly beginning to dig its way through your system causing your whole body to shake._

_Steve is waiting in the same place he and Bucky split up._

_When he sees you, he blanches._

_“What-“_

_Bucky tugs you gently towards the exit, barely looking at Steve as he does so._

_“She’s in shock and she’s injured. We need to go.”_

_“Injured? I thought she could-“_

_“I don’t know Steve!” Bucky grits out, cursing himself when you flinch away from him, balking at the sound of his frustration. He didn’t mean to scare you, or snap at Steve. He tries again, quieter, “I don’t know, I’m sorry.”_

_Steve nods, forgives him, like he always does._

_Bucky looks back at you, glassy eyes, a torn cheek, shaking hands._

_He wonders if he deserves any forgiveness at all._

//

When the jet lands, you stay frozen.

Steve stands, maintaining his distance

“I’m sorry it had to come to that. You didn’t have a choice.”

You don’t move. 

Don’t hear. 

Don’t see. 

Bucky wants you to scream. He wants you to fight or cry or do something - _anything._

But you don’t. 

Steve picks up the shield, and turns to Bucky, “I’m gonna head in... Let me know how she does?”

Bucky nods, “I will. See you tomorrow.”

Then it’s just you and him. 

Your breaths create jagged rips into the chasm of silence.

Bucky kneels down by your side.

Your lower lip shakes, glossed over eyes burning holes into your lap. 

“Where are you right now, Darlin’?”

Your mouth parts for a second but then clamps shut again, eyelids screwing together. Bucky’s chest tightens as the shock radiates off you in heavy, stifling clouds of tar-black ash and soot.

He decides, he’ll stay with you until the sun rises. Stay until you get your voice back and everything feels a little better.

The heating goes off in the jet and cold begins to seep in. Bucky doesn’t care. 

  
  


He doesn’t know if it’s hours or seconds before you move but suddenly, your left hand slips down to meet his right one. 

Freezing cold fingers tighten around his but your eyes stay trained down and Bucky realises how much energy you must have put into saving the agent.

He squeezes once. Not minding the way your nails press into the back of his hand or the way the blood on your palms smudges onto his.

When you don’t make any move to let go, Bucky decides to try something else. 

“Squeeze my hand twice if you want to leave. Once if you don’t want to move yet. It’s okay if you can’t at all.”

Slowly but surely your fingers tighten around his twice. 

A small victory - _you can hear him._

“Okay,” Bucky squeezes back, “let’s get you outta here.” 

You stand up from the chair and the blanket slips from your shoulders, falling to the ground. Your hand tightens around Bucky’s. 

“I’ve got you.” 

The two of you start making your way down the ramp, it’s hard because you’re unsteady on your feet, leaning heavily against him; a weight he bears willingly.

It takes a few minutes to make it to the compound entrance. The cold night air bites harshly at Bucky’s skin, filtering under the sharp edges of his tactical suit, digging it’s way into his bones. 

He hates being cold. It reminds him too much of handlers and red books and torture.

You and Steve have told him that he’s getting better.

Bucky wants to believe.

//

_It’s late afternoon and Bucky finds himself lying next to you on your bed. He’s not entirely sure how he’s gotten there. Sometimes it happens, the hours blur together, his brain will push anything that could hurt him out, leaving him confused and numb._

_His therapist calls it disassociation._

_Bucky just thinks it’s fucking annoying. It makes him feel crazy, like he’s constantly missing something._

_You don’t seem to mind either way._

_If Bucky turns on his left he's met by the sight of the pouring and relentless, grey rain outside your window._

_If he turns to his right, he’s met by the sight of you._

_He decides that you’re infinitely better._

_“Sorry about the cold,” you murmur, tucking your comforter around Bucky’s metal arm. “Tony still hasn’t fixed the goddamn heating.”_

_Bucky shrugs, “It’s no problem, I’ve got you to keep me warm.”_

_You make a face; amusement with a dusting of worry._

_“You’re a smooth talker, Barnes. But if you’d rather move to another room just tell me, okay? I know you don’t like the cold.” Your eyes search him for any signs of discomfort._

_You’ve always been like this. Immensely gentle with the people around you, especially him._

_Bucky had spent a lot of time in the Med Bay in_ _the first few months after Steve brought him from Wakanda,_

_At first it had been to get aspirin for his headaches or gauze for his split knuckles. Later, it had turned into passing time with you because y_ _ou were always there._

_As gentle as the moon and twice as beautiful._

_Slowly, you’d reintroduced him to love and touch, taught Buck more about patience than he had ever cared to learn._

_Now, Bucky smiles at you, “I’m okay. Promise.”_

_You scoot closer so your noses are almost but not quite touching, fingers running over his body, pulling pain out of hidden places. Replacing it with the gentle lull of your powers._

_Your hands find his and Bucky feels you again, slightly stronger this time because you’re focusing on more recent pain that Bucky didn’t even realize he was feeling. You take his bruised, split knuckles and press the pads of your fingers to them until he can’t feel any hurt any more._

_Afterwards, you don't move your hands so Bucky takes them in his own, cocooning them carefully._

_You’re always a little colder after putting your powers to practice. You’ve told Bucky that it doesn’t bother you, it doesn't hurt._

_Bucky doesn’t care. Trying to warm you up is the least he can do when you regularly take all his pain away at the expense of your own comfort._

_“You’re doin’ so good Bucky, m’ so proud of you.”_

_You’re referring to the cold. To how you think that he handles it infinitely better than he used to. It's mostly a reminder now, somewhere between a memory and a trigger. Bucky doesn't like being cold - he never will - but it doesn't send him spiralling anymore and some days, that's enough._

_He rolls his eyes, “You have to say that. You’re my friend. "_

_“I’m not kidding Buck.”_

_And you’re not. You’re staring at him in a way that makes him feel like the best man alive and maybe with you he is._

_There are days when Bucky wants nothing more but to repent for the lifetimes he's spent under HYDRA. He wants to kneel before the eyes of a god and beg for forgiveness. Beg until his voice stops working, until he's absolved of his sins._

_With you, none of this is necessary. Your smile alone is enough to bring Bucky to his knees but you will never ask him to repent._

_You carry on, "you’ve worked so hard.”_

_Bucky, who still isn’t entirely used to compliments, just nods and thanks you quietly._

_“Couldn’t have done it without you.”_

_It’s an afterthought. Something he didn’t even mean to say out loud, but it’s true._

_He probably couldn’t have done it without you._

_Your laugh rings through the room, playful and a little shy, “I’m sure you could’ve.”_

_Bucky’s lungs ache a little at the way you lay all insecurities bare for him. Trusting him entirely to do with them what he wishes_

_He wishes he could chase them all away._

_Instead he says, “I couldn’t, Y/N. I need you.”_

_You seem to contemplate this for a while before smiling, “I need you too.”_

_The two of you lapse into silence._

_Bucky wonders where you both stand._

_Something closer than friends, but not yet lovers._

_Steve reckons that you're both in denial, stuck in a grey space that neither of you want to define._

_Bucky doesn’t mind. He’ll take anything you give him and nothing more._

_“You wanna watch ‘Fresh Prince’?” You murmur a while later, eyes still shut, hands now warm and pliant in his._

_“Whatever you want, Doc.”_

_It’s there, with the ‘Fresh Prince of Bel-air’ soundtrack playing from your laptop, that Bucky realises he’d go to the ends of the earth for you._

_He’d give you the sun and the moon and all the stars in the sky._

_He's just not sure how to tell you yet._

//

Bucky doesn’t want to leave you alone. 

So as soon as you’re both in his room, he grabs a fleece and a pair of sweatpants, never once letting go of your hand. 

He leads you into his bathroom, making you sit on the edge of the bathtub next to the sink as he puts the clothes down. 

Slowly, tenderly, he pulls your hands under the tap, to rinse the blood off them. 

The water turns rusty as the red runs from where it's caked in your nail beds. From where it’s nestled in the creases on your palms. 

Bucky scans over your face, finding that the skin on your cheek has begun to mend itself together again. It’s a slower process than usual. The spot where the bullet grazed you looks tender and sore, but it’s something, and Bucky isn’t sure you’d be able to manage a trip to the med bay in this state. 

“There’s some on your face. I’m going to wipe it off.”

You nod quickly, shuffling a little closer. 

Bucky wets a small towel under the water and puts it to your face, rubbing softly at the spots where the blood has dried. Following the trail from your cheek, down your chin. 

Then he works at the places where the agent’s blood splattered onto your skin. Under your left eye, over your nose, on your forehead. 

You shudder under his touch. 

“You’re okay,” he coos. “ _You’re_ _okay_.” 

Bucky doesn’t remember his first kill. 

His mind has blurred the lines between each death and now the memories are just a mass of gunpowder and blood. 

Mangled shadows and disfigured faces are something he’s used to. Something he thought he could keep you away from.

Now you’re hurt and it's his fault. 

All his fault.

  
  


//

He helps you out of your suit carefully. Helps you unfasten and unzip different parts of it slowly. You set your own pace. Bucky follows.

When it's all off, Bucky's breath gets caught in his throat and it's not for the right reasons.

He’s never seen you look so vulnerable, and it _hurts._

He places his clothes by your side.

“Do you need help?”

You shake your head, but your hand closes around his, pulling him closer. The panic that throws itself across your features doesn’t need words. 

“Hey, hey I’m staying right here okay? I’m not going to leave unless you tell me to.”

Something softens in you gaze.

It’s unspoken, but it’s in your eyes. 

_Thank you._

You pull on the sweatpants near-lethargically, hand only letting go of Bucky’s to tie the drawstring snug around your waist. 

Bucky picks up the fleece next, “arms up.”

You oblige and Bucky pulls it onto you, pressing a kiss to your forehead when it appears through the neck of the soft fabric.

When your hands come up to pull his tactical vest off, Bucky tries to push them away. 

“I’m okay, Doc-“

You breathe deep. 

“ _Please._ ”

It’s quiet and hoarse and it’s enough to make Bucky shut up . 

You place your hands back on his vest, fingers deftly moving over straps and velcro and synthetic fabric. You unclip the clasps that are pressing into his side, tugging it off him completely.

To Bucky, the air feels a fraction more breathable.

Your hands and eyes pour over him. Fingertips dancing around his heart for a while before moving on. You scan him for injuries from head to toe and back again, running your hands over his shoulders, his jaw, his ribs; the places where you know Bucky’s pain is more concentrated, before moving elsewhere.

Bucky lets you. 

He wishes you wouldn’t waste so much energy on him; you’re exhausted as it is.

But you need this. Something familiar and domestic - a process you’re both used to.

It’s normal.

Safe. 

Practically muscle memory by now.

Your need to look after him works in the same way that his need to check on you when he’s back from a mission does. 

Both of you are comforted by caring for the other. 

//

_Evening is melting into night and Bucky can’t find you_

_You weren’t in the hangar when he landed. You haven’t replied to any of his messages._

_To say he’s worried is an understatement._

_“Relax Barnes, some agents came back a while before you, she probably just got caught up checking them over in the medbay.”_

_Bucky_ _is_ _making_ _his_ _way_ _there_ _before_ _the_ _words_ _have_ _finished_ _falling_ _from_ _Sam's_ _mouth_.

_“Hey Blue, missed you.”_

_A slight slur presses onto your words as your nickname for Bucky falls from your lips. You lean back on your desk heavily, pulling the sweater you’re wearing tighter around your frame._

_It was a Christmas present from Steve to Bucky. Black and warm and yours now apparently._

_The sleeves are a fraction longer than your arms and they pool around your wrists._

_Bucky’s heart melts._

_“You weren’t in the hangar, or in your room. Sam said I might find you here.” His voice is barely a whisper as he scans over your tired expression._

_Badly concealed shadows hang under your eyes, lips turned down in a soft frown._

_“When was the last time you slept?”_

_You reply with a yawn, “I was workin’ on something here yesterday, and then Bruce needed some help today, and then the mission guys came back and they needed a check so I said I’d do it-“_

_“Not what I asked Doll.”_

_You huff gently, rubbing your eyes, “I’ve been napping here and there.”_

_Bucky shakes his head, pushing his right hand out, “C’mon, you're dead on your feet. Have you eaten?” He asks as you put your hand in his. It doesn’t shock him to find it cold._

_“Just some tea earlier,” your nose scrunches up._

_Bucky doesn’t know whether to groan or laugh. He settles on a mix of both as he pulls you out of the room and into the corridors._

_“What would you like for dinner?”_

_“Pancakes,” you mumble seriously. “I would like pancakes.”_

_“For dinner?”_

_“Yes. Pancakes for dinner.”_

_“Okay Y/N, one plate of pancakes coming up.”_

_Bucky drops you off in his room, it's the nearest._

_He takes the sweater from you as you sit down gingerly - hanging it up by the door before turning back._

_“What would you like them with-“_

_You’re fast asleep. Sprawled heavily across his bed, surrounded by all the pillows and comforters that you’ve started leaving there._

_Bucky turns off the lights and slips out of his room, letting himself fall a little harder as he does so. A tiny indulgence, something he shouldn't do as often as he does._

_“Barnes?”_

_Sam appears at the end of the corridor, and Bucky looks back at you, making sure the other man's obnoxiously loud voice hasn’t woken you up._

_It hasn’t._

_Bucky crosses the corridor quickly, meeting Sam halfway._

_“What?” It comes out a little harsher than he intends, “She’s sleeping.”_

_Sam just nods smiling, “Okay, okay I just wanted to check you’d found her.”_

_“I did,” Bucky grumbles, “so you can stop yelling.”_

_Sam raises his hands guiltily but the smile doesn’t come off his face._

_“When are you gonna tell her how you-“_

_He’s cut off when Bucky grabs him and drags him across the hallway._

_“Could you be any more loud?”_

_Sam just pokes him teasingly, “I’m just sayin’, man. Anyone can tell you’re head over heels for her-“_

_Bucky pushes him into the elevator, pressing the buttons left right and centre to make him disappear before he can do real damage._

_“Out.”_

_“But-“_

_“Goodbye Sam.”_

_“Tell her how you feel!” Sam’s voice fades away almost comically as the elevator doors shut. Bucky breathes a sigh of relief._

_“Tell who how you feel?” Your voice is soft but Bucky’s enhanced hearing catches it regardless._

_He spins around to find you standing in front of his door, head tilted to the side as you rub your eyes._

_Bucky rushes towards you, “no one, doll. Sam was just being an idiot.”_

_You seem to take this as reason enough in your sleep deprived haze, “m’kay. I'm goin' back to sleep. Night, Blue.”_

_Bucky watches you disappear back into his room, "Good night, Doc."_

_He will tell you how he feels._

_Just not yet._

_//_

There's a quiet knock at the door.

"Barnes? Cap said you were back, I've got food."

A lot of the time, Sam annoys the living hell out of Bucky. He's loud and obtrusive and he understands how Bucky feels a little too much for comfort. 

But there are other times when he's a godsend. This, is one of those times. 

Your hand tightens around Bucky's as he makes his way to the door.

"It's just Sam," he soothes. "It's alright."

Bucky opens the door slowly to reveal Sam standing there, plate in his hands with a smile plastered across his face.

“Chef Sam made pancakes.” He hands Bucky the plate. "There was left over batter, I thought you might-" He breaks off when he catches sight of you, still partially hidden behind Bucky's figure. 

"Thank you, Sam." Your voice is rough but you push the words out nonetheless. 

Sam winks at you, "No worries, Doc. I'll let you two get some sleep," he pats Bucky's shoulder gently one last time before making his way back down the corridor. 

_//_

Bucky leads you to his bed slowly.

Your eyes move down to the plate and for a split second, the haunted expression leaves your face, giving way to something more gentle. 

“ _Pancakes for dinner_.”

Bucky smiles at you. “Pancakes for dinner.”

The two of you eat in silence. You’re sinking deep and fast and he doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to pull you back up. 

He wants to cradle you close and not let go until he’s completely sure that you’re okay.

But he can’t. He doesn’t even know if you want to be touched.

So he eats in silence by your side, stealing glances at you whenever he hears your breathing hitch. 

Somewhere inbetween the second and third pancake you start crying. 

You sound hoarse and heavy and thoroughly _exhausted_ , shoulders shaking with every breath. Your head falls on Bucky’s shoulder. 

“I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“I know.”

“He was going to kill you.”

“I know _._ ”

“I would do it again. I-“

Bucky rubs circles into the space between your thumb and your pointer finger, waits for you to gather your thoughts 

  
  


“I.. I got into the surveillance, and I saw him following-” you gulp quietly. 

“And I tried to warn you b-but comms went down, and-“ 

Every single word rasps against your throat as you struggle against a fresh onslaught of tears.

“I just wanted to keep you _safe_ . I kept thinking that he’d take you- and hurt you and you’ve been through enough _pain_ Bucky _.”_

Bucky feels guilt begin to pool in his gut. 

This is all his fault. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart-“

You shift away from him. “No- It’s not your fault. Bucky, none of this is your fault... _I would do it again.”_

“You shouldn’t have had to do it in the first place. You were _hurt._ Because of me.”

Bucky takes your tear streaked face in his hands, cupping it as tenderly.

“I love you. I love you and you are the only place I feel at home. But I couldn't keep you safe.” His voice breaks. “I can’t forgive myself for it.”

It’s out. No taking it back. Bucky searches your eyes not quite knowing what he’s looking for.

Your mouth widens, stunned. 

“You love me.”

It's quiet. Barely a whisper. 

Bucky nods, running his thumb over the place where the knife caught your skin. 

“I love you too." You're eyes are wide, a little lost. _"I love you too.”_

Bucky thinks he's misheard you, but then you keep saying it.

 _"I love you. I love you. I love you."_ Over and over it tumbles from your lips haphazardly like a drunken prayer.

You push your head forward so it rests against his.

Bucky whispers hoarsely, "I'm sorry it took this for me to tell you." 

You just stare at him for a while, reaching up to play with lose strands of his hair, letting it fall between your fingers. Your hand moves down to graze his jaw, his cheekbones, wavering slightly until the soft tips of your fingertips grace his lips. Slowly your hand moves from Bucky's face, running down the side of his neck with unmistakable tenderness. 

Bucky catches you before you reach his shoulder, pressing a kiss across your palm.

You've seen his shoulder before. Felt the marred juncture where skin meets metal. You've taken the tension away more times than Bucky can bare to count, but here - in the soft darkness of his room, he feels the need to keep you away from something damaged, to keep you safe from HYDRA and all that that entails.

He avoids your eyes, focusing on your hands instead. The skin is healing there too, Bucky notices. Tender strips run across your knuckles in uneven patterns. Bucky kisses every single one.

It's like that for a while, both of your relishing in the calm quiet. Letting the sensation of being in each others company soothe you. It's nice. Something that Bucky has vague memories of experiencing before the war. Standing on the balcony of his Ma's house with Steve or his sisters, letting the sounds of Brooklyn wash over him. 

You remind Bucky of the life he lost. 

But you are also the life Bucky has gained, he will _never_ stop being grateful.

A heavy yawn parts your lips and Bucky looks up to see your eyes straining to stay open. 

"Sleep, Y/N."

He tucks you under his comforter and you curl up against him; head moving to rest in the gap under his chin. Your hands are curled up against your chest but Bucky can feel your heart still beating a little faster than normal. Tight shoulders, fidgeting legs.

But your breaths are deeper, more regulated and Bucky knows that even though neither of you are completely okay now, you will be soon.

You have each other and its more than enough. 

_Bucky_ is enough.

He pulls you a little closer, almost under the sweet lull of sleep when he hears your voice again.

"G'night Blue."


End file.
